


Midnight in Paris

by Lynse



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Marichat, One Shot, Romance, Tragedy, one-sided reveal, post-Evillustrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynse/pseuds/Lynse
Summary: Marinette had never thought she'd end up alone with Chat Noir like this, but hiding behind Ladybug's mask was impossible now, and she wouldn't make a different choice even if she had the chance.





	Midnight in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Evillustrator but otherwise has no particular timeline. Originally posted to [my tumblr](https://ladylynse.tumblr.com/) before I switched a few things around and decided to put it up here, too. Standard disclaimers apply.

Marinette was curled around Chat Noir, resting her head lightly on his chest and hardly daring to believe it had come to this. It was just after midnight, and they lay in a secluded section of the park, far enough off the main pathways that they were swathed more in moonlight than the distant glow of the streetlights. It felt peaceful being alone here with him, with the far off rush of traffic the only disturbance. If she closed her eyes, she could shut out the rest of the world and imagine that it was just the two of them.

The ground was hard, still damp with evening dew, but the warmth of his body was enough to drive away any chill she might feel. His head was resting on her leg and he had one arm draped around her waist. Twisted as she was, she might have found the tight position uncomfortable if she were not so focused on his heartbeat thrumming through her skull, the steady rise and fall of his chest, or the burning heat of his body against hers.

It felt strange to be with him here as Marinette rather than as Ladybug. She almost missed the mask, the guarantee that they belonged together, that she should be the one here with him, but she didn’t wish it back. The time for secrets between them had passed, at least on her end.

She caught the slight change in his breathing and wasn’t surprised when he blinked open his eyes. He stared at her for a moment, his forehead wrinkling in confusion before the word emerged from his lips. “Purr-incess?”

She had still been Ladybug when had closed his eyes, but at least he had had no trouble recognizing her as Marinette; he didn’t call anyone else by that pet name.

“Shh, kitty. You don’t need to talk.” She found his hand and squeezed it. “I’m here. That’s enough for now.”

Fortunately, he seemed to take her at her word and lapsed into silence, closing his eyes again. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was at all surprised or if some part of him had begun to suspect. He had left on patrol with Ladybug but had ended up with Marinette, and there was no mistaking now that they were one and the same. She hoped he didn’t feel betrayed. She’d begun to wonder if his feelings for her had begun shifting quite some time ago, and she wasn’t sure if that made it worse. 

It’s not that he had stopped trying to flirt with Ladybug, not exactly, but he had stopped forcing it. They had become better friends in its absence, enough so that she occasionally deigned to speak a pun in his hearing. They’d become closer, not just as partners but as friends, and she’d begun to believe that Alya’s crazy theories about Chat Noir and Ladybug secretly dating could actually become a possibility.

But then Chat Noir had stopped seizing upon anything that seemed like it might be an opportunity with Ladybug, and instead she had begun running into him more and more often when she was just Marinette. It hadn’t started as much, not really, but one time after school when she hadn’t walked home with Alya because she’d needed to grab something for her parents, there had been these guys, and….

She would have figured something out, she was sure. Something that didn’t require transforming. But then her kitty had been _there_ , helping her out of a bad situation before it became worse and teasing that he’d have to keep an eye on her because clearly she was a target for more than just the lovesick Evillustrator.

She’d laughed off the incident, thanking him in an exaggerated manner for his gallantry, and quickly finished her errand and all but run home. He’d stuck to the rooftops, but she’d caught a glimpse of him more than once, and she knew he’d seen her home safely.

She hadn’t told her parents.

She hadn’t even told Alya.

Chat Noir hadn’t mentioned it when they met for patrol that night, and she had been too terrified to feign knowledge and try lest she say something that give her away. They had found nothing unusual that night, and she hadn’t stayed a moment longer than necessary.

She hadn’t thought she’d slept at all that night, but the next morning when she went to check on her plants, she had found a bundle of scrap material left on her balcony, carefully wrapped to them clean and dry. For a wild moment, she’d wondered if Nathanaël had managed to leave it for her. It had seemed like a thoughtful thing he would do, and she knew he still had a crush on her, even though she hadn’t encouraged it. The idea hadn’t been entirely dissuaded when the flowers had arrived for her the next night, sent without a note. Telling her parents she thought they might be from one of her classmates had resulted in them tossing out names to judge her reaction, so she’d quickly ended up barricading herself in her room so she had time to think.

It was then that she had heard the knock on her window, and her heart had jumped into her throat because she could only remember the Evillustrator, especially after what Chat Noir had said to her. Except it hadn’t been him. It had been her kitty, come to check up on her. He had been in the neighbourhood, he’d said, and wanted to see how she was doing—and find out if the flowers had cheered her or the material distracted her.

She’d been equally touched and terrified—not of him, of course, but of someone else finding out. Especially Alya. She didn’t want to explain any of this to Alya. She’d thanked him more stiffly than she should have, assured him with lies he surely didn’t believe that she was perfectly fine, and begged him to go. He had, and she’d felt awful, but his departure had briefly quelled the rising panic in her gut. She’d told herself in the weeks that followed that it had only been because Alya was coming over, and she didn’t want to stand up to Alya’s interrogation when she had no answers. Well, no answers she was comfortable sharing, anyway.

The truth was, she’d been afraid of more than just the answers.

She’d seen him more and more often in the future, and his silent presence had brought her more comfort than she’d ever admit. She didn’t want to need him looking out for her, but she was touched by the gesture. He had been courteous when they met, he’d always tried to make her laugh, and he’d always managed to look so earnest that she ended up smiling anyway. It hadn’t been long before he had dropped his false boast and bravado and begun to act like the Chat Noir she’d come to know as Ladybug.

And then he had stopped pretending to run into her and had had the audacity to visit before meeting Ladybug to go on patrol, which had been its own mix of panic-inducing and thrilling, and then she’d learned more about her partner than she ever had as Ladybug because of how she had always insisted they keep their identities a secret and be as discreet as possible.

She’d been so foolish. She should have told him ages ago.

But she hadn’t, because the little voice that had been so fearful of discovery, of what might happen to her friends and family if her identity as Ladybug became known, had instead begun whispering about the pain of rejection, of not being good enough.

She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it had been enough encouragement to keep her true to Tikki’s warnings that she mustn’t reveal herself to anyone.

Well, it had been enough, until now, but now was different. Now…. She was going to tell him now. Once she worked up her nerve. She was as good as halfway there already, and she’d hardly opened her mouth. The trouble was she hadn’t really realized how she’d felt until tonight, and now she was so frightened she wasn’t sure she could admit it.

 _I think I love you_ , she wanted to say. No, it was even simpler than that, because she was certain of it now. Terribly certain. _Je t’aime_. That was all. It shouldn’t be difficult to make the words pass her lips.

“Marinette?” Chat Noir’s voice was more breath than whisper, and she raised her eyes to meet his own. “Are you the girl beneath the mask?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly, her eyes searching his face for any sign of anguish. She saw none, even thought she might have glimpsed relief as he relaxed, but…. “I should have told you earlier, kitty, but I…couldn’t.” Let him assume it because they were supposed to keep their identities a secret; she didn’t want to tell him she’d feared, even before realizing what it meant, that she might lose him. 

She didn’t want to lose him.

_Please, stay with me, kitty. I don’t know what I’d do without you._

“It doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “I love you.” Her heart leapt into her throat at his words, hardly daring to believe it was true, and she almost didn’t hear what he said next. “I’ve loved the girl beneath the mask since we fought Stoneheart together, and now I realize that I loved her doubly so.”

She squeezed his hand tighter than she should and forced herself to say it. “I think I’ve fallen, too. In love, I mean. With you.” Was it just nerves making her babble like an idiot? This was _Chat Noir_. She hadn’t gotten so tongue-tied with anyone since she’d fallen for Adrien, and she’d finally gotten to the point where she could easily talk with him. They were friends, and that was all, and that was okay. She refused to believe Alya when she said Adrien liked her in that way; he was simply kind to everyone, her included. But she’d known Chat Noir for ages and never had trouble talking to him before. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths and amended, “No, I mean, I don’t think. I know. I have. I love you.”

There.

She’d said it.

For better or for worse.

His smile made her heart lift, and she dared to hope that, maybe, this would work out in her favour—

And then he shifted—or she shifted, she wasn’t even sure—and he began coughing horribly, his face twisting in pain. She sat up and moved so that his head was resting in her lap by the time the fit was over. He looked utterly exhausted when he finally lay back against her, still unable to breathe deeply, and she felt her own chest tighten. His face blurred, and she blinked back tears. She couldn’t afford to cry. Not right now.

“Why—?”

“Don’t try to talk,” she said quickly, cutting him off. She should have made him stop earlier. It had been selfish to want to listen to him speak to her, to hear him say that for her. “Tikki went to fetch help.” It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat, especially with her mind supplying so many terrible scenarios. Marinette stared down at the flushed face of her partner, determined to meet his eyes and hoping he’d believe her. “She’ll be back any minute now. You don’t need to worry.”

Except Tikki wasn’t back in a minute, not even in ten minutes, and Marinette was back to feeling like she wanted to cry. Even when they’d found something on patrol in the past, things had never gone this wrong before. They’d always managed to sort it out, and it had never taken them very long. They would fight the akuma and defeat it, and she’d reverse the damage, and they’d congratulate each other on a job well done. And, if one of them had a bit of time before their transformation wore off, they would stay around to help orient Hawk Moth’s victim.

But this time, it hadn’t been like that.

This time, Chat Noir had been injured before he’d even had a chance to use Cataclysm, and she no longer had any memory of how she’d fought off the akuma without him and won. She just knew she had. But she also knew she still had a nasty cut on her right temple that led back into her hairline—hard to see but no less painful for it, and she was simply grateful that it had finally stopped bleeding—and, more importantly, she knew that her partner was still hurt. She had done everything they usually did, and it hadn’t worked.

This damage should have been reversed. Why hadn’t it been reversed like everything else? Why hadn’t it fixed him? Why was his breathing still laboured, his heartbeat still erratic? Why was there still blood on his lips?

And why wasn’t Tikki back already? It had to have been at least half an hour since she’d finished her cookie and delivered the ominous news to Marinette. _Doctors won’t be able to help him, but I know someone who might._ A small, hurt part of her wondered if Tikki had said that and flitted off solely so she wouldn’t need to answer Marinette’s questions.

That was unfair, and Marinette knew it, but she couldn’t help thinking it. Tikki hadn’t taken the time to explain anything. Marinette didn’t know why this was happening, aside from what now seemed obvious and that they hadn’t just been fighting a normal akuma. The damage had never lasted like this before, and its heart-wrenching stubbornness to refuse to bend to Tikki’s restorative magic made her want to scream. Or cry. This had to take magic, some sort of magic that counteracted their own protective magic, the kwami’s protective magic. They had never taken damage like this before, and the few injuries they did sustain were always healed at the end.

Until now.

Until now, when Tikki’s magic had only fixed the structural damage but hadn’t mended anything living. Until now, when the akuma’s magic had finally bubbled away from its victim but left him so weak that he’d collapsed and lapsed into an unconsciousness from which she couldn’t revive him. She hadn’t even looked back to her partner at first, thinking the damage was limited to Hawk Moth’s victim. She’d called an ambulance and given the address before her earrings had beeped for the fourth time and she knew she had to leave. She’d found it unusual Chat Noir hadn’t said anything, but she hadn’t realized…she hadn’t….

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut. She’d barely had time to get him away from there before her transformation had worn off. This park was nearby, easy to find but usually quiet, at least at this time of night. She hadn’t wanted to have her transformation wear off where others could see, and she hadn’t wanted to leave Chat Noir alone. She’d given Tikki the cookie with the intention of transforming again and taking her partner directly to the hospital, but then Tikki…..

Tikki had assessed the situation in the blink of an eye, taking in Marinette’s injuries without question and checking on Chat Noir in silence. It wasn’t until Marinette had mentioned her plan that Tikki had told her it wouldn’t do any good. This was magic, and modern medicine was ill-suited to combat it. She’d told Marinette that Chat Noir shouldn’t be moved, that she would go for help and that Marinette should wait here with her partner. That she shouldn’t push herself, either. But her cuts and scrapes and bruises were nothing. This….

_Just stay with me, kitty._

This wasn’t fair. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not now that she’d finally opened her eyes and realized what she’d been missing for so long. Not now that he finally knew and they had a chance to be together.

“Don’t cry, my lady.”

Marinette couldn’t help it. She brushed the fallen tears from her partner’s forehead but managed to summon up a smile for him, even as her vision blurred with fresh tears. “You’ve always been worth tears, _minou_ , and I’m afraid this is more than spilled milk.” He would know that already; she knew she couldn’t keep that from him. That didn’t make saying it any easier, though. “But we’ll find a way to fix this. We always do. And Tikki’s on her way.”

“I love you,” he mumbled again, his eyes closing as if it was taking all of his energy to talk.

Marinette tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it refused to go. “I love you, too,” she whispered as her fingers gently traced his features, “and I promise, I’ll find a way to make this right. Just stay with me, kitty.” _Please. Please, I can’t you lose you. Not now. Not like this. Not when you’re only hurt because you were trying to protect me._ “Just stay with me.”


End file.
